


Star Drinks

by WarnerHedgehog



Series: In Amongst the Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Comedy, Gen, Parody, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarnerHedgehog/pseuds/WarnerHedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A somewhat daft parody of Star Wars, ending the whole thing in one scene.  The characters have been slightly warped.<br/>I should apologise for it, but I'll have to think about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Drinks

Space, near the vineyard planet of Tattooing.

An epic chase was in progress: an Empire Taverns Galacti-Bar was chasing down a Rebel Yell Mobi-Pub. Various badly aimed shots were being traded between the two space vessels and by all accounts the vastly bigger Galacti-Bar was winning the running fight. After a little while, the small Mobi-Pub seemed to realise it's position was fairly hopeless and appeared to give up. With apparent glee, the Galacti-bar engaged its tractor beam and captured the smaller ship, pulling it slowly and surely into a cavernous bay on its underside. Inside the Mobi-Pub, a team of space waiters waited near the main hatch, guns drawn, nerves twitching. With an ear-shredding screach, the hatch glowed horribly brightly for a moment before being blasted into space dust, allowing a squad of Empire troopers to storm in, their shots accurate and deadly, easily overpowering and subduing the unhappy waiters. Behind them strode the Empire Tavern’s much feared black-clad Enforcer of Seemingly Random Rules, Darth Soda. While their boss lurked near the newly destroyed doorway, the squad split up in order to search the ship so they could see what was what and grab any important people who happened to be lurking inside.  
After about five minutes, a team of troopers returned, frogmarching the Mobi-Pub’s captain toward Soda. Darth picked the stereotypical cockney up with one hand and only got a “Do us a favour Guv, whaddya want?” for his trouble.  
“Plans were beamed aboard this space boozer, mister. Where are they?” growled Soda.  
“Ain’t got a Scooby mate. Don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout no plans.” squeaked the Captain, somehow managing to shrug.  
“Look Buster, Rebel Yell spies transmitted plans for a Fun-Sized Super UltraClub to this shambles of a spaceborne watering hole. We know they’re here someplace, so dont lie. Tell me now!” shouted the Empire bigwig while shaking his victim.  
“Sorry mate. It’s nothin’ to do with me. I just drive this thing and that's it." responded the Rebel lummox.  
“You're not going to like this.” stated Darth Soda. He reached out, using the mystical power known as ‘Sobriety’ and induced a massive hangover in the captain. He dropped the unfortunate man into a corner and left him to stew in his own filth.  
Another group of troopers mooched up and addressed their boss. By the looks of things, they'd acquired a couple of hideous robotic things. “My Lord, we’ve found these two depressingly ugly droids. The short irritating bleepy one seems to contain the plans.”  
“What an awful pair of robots. The tall one reminds me of a cheap and nasty Build-Your-Own droid kit I had when I was a kid." He poked the taller robot a couple of times.  
"I really must protest" the taller droid whinged, "We are on a problematic, I mean diplomatic mission to."  
Before it could talk any more, Darth Soda hit it on the head, "Will you shut up? It even has the same ridiculous accent. I really couldn't stand that stupid droid." He paused as the shorter robot spewed a lot of beepy gibberish at him, "Does that little rubbish bin ever stop bleeping?” asked lord Soda.  
“Doesn’t seem to, we cant see an 'off' button anywhere. I think the best thing to do is destroy them.” responded a trooper.  
Darth Soda pondered for a second and then answered, “Yeah alright, sounds good. Make sure those plans and these awful mechs are history."  
The troopers took the droids away for disassembly amongst a barrage of squeaky noise and posh-accented complaints from their charges. A few minutes later, yet another group dragged a badly dressed woman toward Soda. She apparently had two Belgian Buns glued to the sides of her head.  
“Lord Soda. Only you could be so bold. The very nosy Imperial PR bods will not stand for this days work. When they hear you’ve attacked a Mobi-Pub, they’ll hand you your butt in a sling.”  
“Says you, hairdo. I own the Imperial PR folks: they’re my bitches and they love it.” snapped Lord Soda, “Anyways, you and your Rebel Yell mates nicked some stuff from us and we wanted to get it back. Now we have it. Simples.”  
“I really don’t know what you’re gibbering on about, Sodastream.” protested the painted tart.  
“Oh for the love of vodka..never bloody mind. We’ve got the plans, so there. Some cheeky bugger hid them rather badly in that irritating little beeping trashcan robot which I may add is about to be vaporised. Look lady, you have a choice: join the Empire Taverns Group or” he paused for effect, “the head of my elite squad will sing to you. In our karaoke bar. Your choice”  
“Oh bugger.” said the woman with feeling. “I’ll join. I’ve heard him sing.”  
Darth Soda grinned beneath his mask and clapped his hands together, “Smart move. Right lads. Any booze on board this shed, take it onto our boat along with anything you think looks interesting or useful, then ditch this...” He looked around in disgust, “so-called space pub and destroy it. After that we’ll head for Tropicale 7 and have a week long beach party. We need one. Right lads, let’s boogie.”

And so they went and partied.

The End.


End file.
